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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614442">Mercurial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootprophet/pseuds/padfootprophet'>padfootprophet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Roman mythology, sort of open ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:21:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootprophet/pseuds/padfootprophet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercurial / mərˈkyʊər i əl /<br/>(i) changeable; fickle; flighty.<br/>(ii) animated; lively; quick-witted.<br/>(iii) of or relating to the god Mercury.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Wally West</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mercurial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I mostly chose to use Roman names for gods because I studied Latin and wanted an excuse to use it, only to realise once I started that I had forgotten most of the Latin I knew. I spent way too much time looking at conjugation tables for a 3K fic, but that's the writer's curse. Translations are at the end, they are hopefully accurate.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick scurries between the buildings of the campus, ignoring the sharp chill of spring winds and the brilliant sunshine alike by ducking his face closer to his chest, nose half buried in his coat. He has a stack of folders held tight in one hand, the other clutching the stale coffee he'd snagged from the cafeteria in the brief minutes that pass for a break.</p>
<p>He's just ducked inside his building when there's a touch at his elbow. He startles, then flinches as his coffee sloshes and a few drops splatter about his boots.</p>
<p>"Sorry," a familiar voice says behind him.</p>
<p>Dick turns sharply. It makes sense that he didn't notice someone approaching him when that someone is Wally West. He'd been ready to blame his lack of vigilance on the thousand things demanding his attention, but now he has no need.</p>
<p>"You shouldn't be here," he says.</p>
<p>"Hi Wally, nice to see you. How have you been?" Wally says, tone pitched into something he clearly considers a reasonable approximation of Dick's voice - deeper and huskier than his own. "Oh, same old. Thought I'd stop by and see my best friend. He's as severe as ever."</p>
<p>Wally's wearing a thick knit sweater and corduroy pants, a beanie pulled over most of his brilliant red hair. With his easy smile and the spray of freckles he could pass for a student. Or a young professor. Dick doesn't think he could hold a candle to his friend's exuberance, he carries too much of Orcus within him.</p>
<p>"I'm busy." The door opens and admits a set of students. Dick snaps his mouth shut. Any conversation he has with Wally probably shouldn't be in such public forum. "We can speak later."</p>
<p>Wally sighs. "You can't even spare five minutes?"</p>
<p>Dick's hands are too full to glance at his watch but technically he has long enough before his next meeting to drink a cup of coffee. He jerks his head towards his office. "Five minutes."</p>
<p>He's almost surprised when Wally walks, despite the clear energy bursting through his system, the power of a literal god crackling along his nerves, he slows down enough to walk in step with Dick. He hums like it's a nervous tic, but doesn't speak until the door reading <em>Richard Grayson, Guidance Counsellor </em>falls shut behind them.</p>
<p>"How are you?" Wally asks sincerely, moving from the door to the desk to the shelves against the wall in a blink. The office space is hardly large enough to justify it but Wally's never been one to stay still. He lifts a figurine from the shelves; a souvenir from Spain, or Italy, or Greece, gathering dust. Dick doesn't remember when he got it, or half the other knick-knacks sat between books. A remnant of a time where they travelled more freely.</p>
<p>He leans against the desk, sets down the folders and coffee cup. "Keeping occupied." He tries not to think about the churning that comes with seeing Wally. "What is it you want?"</p>
<p>Wally turns to him, smile near blinding. "A thousand things. Only some of them from you." He winks.</p>
<p>Dick curls his fingers against the edge of the desk and reminds himself that Wally's flirtations, all his attentions, are fleeting. <em>Mercurial</em>. "Start with the important one."</p>
<p>His dismissive tone brings a pout to Wally's face but he sighs replacing the figurine and leaning himself against the desk beside Dick instead. "Fine," he says, "The message then." He pauses to clear his throat. "<em>Iupiter </em><em>invitat tu</em> <em>ad festum</em>."</p>
<p>Dick looks with one arched brow as Wally shrugs and then amends. "Clark's having a barbeque. Everyone's invited."</p>
<p>"And he couldn't have sent me an email?"</p>
<p>Wally folds his arms across himself, then unfolds them. Discomfort that wouldn't have been there even a decade ago. "I might think you're trying to cheat me out of a job. There's little enough for me to do."</p>
<p>There's an underlying bitterness in his tone. A duty forced into his hands when there's little duty to be held. Dick makes an aborted motion to set a hand against his arm and offer some sort of comfort. "It <em>is</em> good to see you, Wally," he says instead.</p>
<p>A phantom of a smile pulls at Wally's lips. "You're declining."</p>
<p>Dick huffs. "I made my choice."</p>
<p>"I get it." Wally lets out a dry laugh. "Actually I don't, but I guess I've accepted that I <em>won't</em>." He opens his mouth to say something more but is cut off by a series of raps against the wood of the door. He sighs. "I guess my five minutes are up."</p>
<p>He's gone before Dick can say anything more, which is probably for the best; it would have likely been nothing more than hollow promises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The moonlight reflects against the sea and sets the world in ethereal light. Further down the beach there's a bonfire surrounded by joyful tourists but here there's only the sand beneath Dick's feet, and the gentle crest of rippling waves over them, and Wally.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And the shadow of Olympus, just visible from the resort they're visiting.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dick isn't sure if the elation he feels can be credited in any way to the mountain. Perhaps it was the seat of the gods in ancient times, but he never sat there, is as much a tourist in this land as the ones laughing by their bonfire.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He cannot ascribe the lightness in his chest to mythology, nor for all its beauty can he lay it on the moonlit beach. He turns to look at Wally, carefree, soft linen shirt blowing in the gentle salt breeze, cheeks only tinged a little pink from the heat of the sun in the day. Dick's chest squeezes and he reaches out unthinkingly to wrap a hand around Wally's wrist.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Come on," he says, pulling sideways until the water wraps around their ankles, their shins, over their knees.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wally stumbles and Dick drags him down, drops him beneath the surf and laughs at his spluttering objections until he's pulled down too, the sea perhaps the only thing strong enough to drown out the overwhelming urge to kiss his best friend.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Dick leaves work with his jacket slung over his shoulder. The summer sun is warm and the air stiflingly still and whilst he'll want the worn leather when he's on his bike it would be unbearable to put on before he has to.</p>
<p>He draws up short when he sees Wally, leant against the seat of his bike, gaze directed at a slowly circling flock of birds high in the clear sky, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. He would look at ease if not for the way his foot taps out an unsteady rhythm against the tarmac, like he wants to run, to be anywhere else.</p>
<p>"It's one thing to be on campus," Dick says, fingers curling into the straps of his helmet where it hangs from their grip, "But I'd think leaning against my bike would warrant some suspicion."</p>
<p>Wally drops his gaze and his hand slowly, his shoulder drooping with it. "Yes I know," he says. His voice is sober, devoid of his normal smile, the charm Dick fell so easily for. "I had to explain to the security guard we really were friends." He doesn't meet Dick's gaze. "Not above telling a few lies in the name of duty I guess."</p>
<p>Dick's stomach twists. His tongue flicks to wet his lips as he tries to think of some way to respond. Some words of denial or reassurance.</p>
<p>Wally pushes away from the bike and draws himself upright with a deep inhale before turning to Dick. "<em>Vocaris per Orcus</em>."</p>
<p>All the words do is wind the knot in Dick's stomach tighter. "Bruce can't even tell me himself?" His voice is choked. "He's sending <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>"Believe me, I don't want to be here either." Wally runs a hand through his hair with a bitter laugh. "I keep asking what I've done wrong, that he's judged me and chosen to punish me thus."</p>
<p>Dick shakes his head. "This isn't your punishment, Wally."</p>
<p>"Isn't it? Seeing you…" he trails off and turns away sharply, but not so quickly that Dick doesn't see the damp shine of his eyes. "You have your message."</p>
<p>There's a sharp crack as Dick's helmet hits tarmac, his hand clutching the air where Wally had stood a second before. Too slow, as ever, to catch Mercury.</p>
<p>"<em>Faex</em>!" Dick curses, kicking at his helmet. It skitters across the tarmac with an echo and he winces. He stoops to lift it from the ground, brushing a thumb over the scratches and curses under his breath again. He doesn't know if he's damning Wally, or Bruce, or the gods that came before them, but his anger is a pulsing thing.</p>
<p>He shoves his helmet on and wrenches his jacket in place before leaving the parking lot with far more speed than necessary and no destination in mind except <em>elsewhere</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The diner is nestled between snow and ice and the open tundra and bathed in starlight. Dick isn't entirely sure where they are anymore, but it feels like a distant matter in the face of Wally's grin, his wind-blown red nose bearing a spot of whipped cream from the hot chocolate set in his hands.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dick hides his own smile in the thick scarf wound around his neck even as he rolls his eyes and tosses a napkin at his friend.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You know," Wally says, eyes nearly crossed as he attempts to clear the blot of cream from the tip of his nose. "Barry's been talking about retirement."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dick hums against the rim of his cup of coffee. "Barry's been talking about retirement since he was going by Bartholemew."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "It might be nice though." They each set their cups down, the table narrow enough between them that their fingers nearly brush. Wally is looking into the window but all he must be able to see is their reflections. "To be so sure of your love you would die for it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The shadows seem to cling heavier in this alleyway than in others. Dick isn't sure if it's a literal darkness - a seep around the edge of what lies within - or an emotional one - a trick of his own subconscious given how little he wants to be here.</p>
<p>There's a phrase carved in Latin into the corner brick, so worn it's almost unreadable, one brick as old as the city itself even though the buildings around it have almost definitely been pulled down and rebuilt a dozen times in the interim.</p>
<p>Not that he needs to read the writing to know what it says. "<em>Huc non gloria invenies</em>," he mutters to himself as he brushes a thumb and smears a little more grime and dust into the cracks that form the letters. It was a warning, a deterrent to would-be heroes of bygone ages. Dick would turn back if glory was what he sought.</p>
<p>He can sense the shift in the gateway, the moment the seeping darkness becomes tangible and a shadow detaches itself from a wall. Bruce steps into the spill of streetlight at the entrance to the alleyway.</p>
<p>"Dick," he says in greeting. He doesn't make any attempt at further pleasantries and Dick is grateful for that. No <em>how are you</em> as if he doesn't know, no <em>good to see you </em>which would have been betrayed by the tightness of his face.</p>
<p>"Bruce," Dick says, "Shall we walk?"</p>
<p>They fall into easy step together and Dick can't help but smile, bittersweet, at a memory of a time he had to take two steps for every one of Bruce's, clinging to his hand as he showed Dick a world outside of worn fields and circus tents and long open roads. The cities had always been something impressive.</p>
<p>Dick stuffs his hands into his pockets, unsure when the autumn chill had set in, considering warmer climes. "If you're here to try and talk me out of it…" Dick starts.</p>
<p>"No." Bruce sighs and for the first time in as long as Dick has known him he looks resigned. Missing the spark he always carried within him, as fierce and persistent as Mars. "The courage you show-" he cuts himself off, looks to the skies even though the stars are buried behind the glow of the city. "I'm just going to miss you, chum."</p>
<p>Dick rocks from heels to toes and back before making his decision. He throws his arms around Bruce, heedless of the windows overlooking the street, their possible spectators, and hugs him tight. "I'm sorry I let you down," he says.</p>
<p>"You didn't." Bruce's voice is gruff and his return hug only a little more hesitant. "You chose your own path."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The trees quickly block out the sounds of the camp; Donna's peals of laughter, Roy's acerbic storytelling, Garth's low singing. The world narrows down to Dick and Wally and the soft bed of bluebells beneath their feet.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You shouldn't be missing your own party," Dick says when the silent stretches between them, "Just because I'm melancholy."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You're always melancholy."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Precisely."</em>
</p>
<p><em>Wally's fingers wrap around his wrist and draw him to a halt. The moonlight trickles between the branches and the wind sings across leaves. It's a perfect moment, the kind poets write about. </em>This changes nothing, <em>Wally had sworn at their campfire. Dick wishes he held the same confidence.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>He's drawn back from his thoughts by the hand not wrapped around his wrist trailing across his cheek. Wally staring at him with shining admiration. "I think I might be in love with you," he mutters, as though it's just a passing thought.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dick looks away. "Until you're in love with someone else," he says, because Wally's tripped and fallen in love with mortals more times than Dick dares to count, is overflowing with affection and restless in his need to share it with somebody.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Still he allows Wally to tilt his face back into the moonlight and press one lingering kiss there, feels his heart beat in his throat so strong it almost chokes him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He's in a motel somewhere in Texas - heading south in the hopes of living out his mortal life in sunshine - when Wally finds him, is sat on his bed with a despondent expression when Dick pushes open the door.</p>
<p>"I almost can't believe you went through with it," Wally says. His eyes are red and his voice quiet. "And I definitely can't believe I had to find out from <em>Jason</em>." His red eyes are covered briefly by his hands as they press against his face and scrape through his hair. "I thought you were my best friend."</p>
<p>"Am I?" Dick asks, letting the door fall shut behind him with a quiet click. He's put off this conversation long enough. "After all the time and distance am I really your best friend?"</p>
<p>His back hits the door when Wally pushes him against it, crowding in close, something wild in his expression. Dick wonders if it was always there, the depths of madness of the gods and if he'd been blind to it in his own immortality.</p>
<p>"<em>Best friends forever</em>," Wally says in a sing-song voice, a memory of a promise that was probably made a full century ago. "I never changed my mind." It feels like a lifetime that Dick stares, watches as Wally's eyes dip from his own, lips barely parted. "It was never as fleeting as you feared," he whispers.</p>
<p>Dick presses forward with a certainty he feels is granted with his own mortality. The ability to love and be loved tied up with the ability to die in return. He crashes his lips against Wally's and kisses him with desperation, hands curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt and pushing until they tumble, tangled together, onto the cheap motel bed.</p>
<p>He near tears that same shirt in his desperation to get it away, to bare Wally's skin to him so that he can plant heated kisses against every freckle. He wonders briefly if this counts as worship at the altar of a long forgotten god. <em>Mercurius</em> <em>laudo</em>, he thinks with a smile as he slides a hand against Wally's jeans and trails kisses across his hipbone.</p>
<p>Wally arches against every touch, Dick's name falling from his lips - worship returned over and again. "<em>A</em><em>mo tu</em>," Wally mutters as Dick sinks into him, against him. Dick sucks mark after mark against his collarbone, knowing they'll be faded by morning, that a god's skin cannot be branded the same way as the heart beneath. "<em>Amabo tu</em> <em>aeternus</em>," Wally whispers against Dick's temple as he falls apart.</p>
<p>The vow feels like it grips Dick's chest, squeezing until his breath comes in stutters and he realises he's crying. Teardrops melt into sweat and sink into the sheets beneath them and Dick kisses Wally one last time with desperation as he peaks, shaking, biting against Wally's tongue hard enough to draw blood.</p>
<p>They barely separate far enough to pull the sheets over them, Wally falling asleep easily under the lazy turn of fan blades, arms curled around Dick tight enough that they may be the only thing holding him together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"I think I know why the gods choose to die for love," Wally says, as he watches an old couple dancing to a waltz too quiet to carry to their balcony. "Mortals really do it best."</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>Orcus</i> - Roman name for the underworld, also the name for the ruler of it.<br/><i>Iupiter invitat tu ad festum</i> - Jupiter invites you to a feast<br/><i>Vocaris per Orcus</i> - You are summoned by Orcus<br/><i>Faex</i> - Shit<br/><i>Huc non gloria invenies</i> - You will find no glory here<br/><i>Mercurius laudo</i> - Praise Mercury<br/><i>Amo tu. Amabo tu aeternus</i> - I love you. I will love you forever</p></blockquote></div></div>
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